“These days of getting to just be a kid and have fun won’t last forever. My mom used to encourage me to skip dance occasionally to go to a party and be with my friends.
I was a sort of self-designated loner in those days, not because I didn’t love people or socializing, but because I lived and breathed ballet. It dates all the way back to our junior year of high school. Nothing to do but wait for Nathan to surface so we can get going with our Tuesday tradition. I take my first sip of coffee and let it warm me under Kelsey’s frigid stare. She takes out her samurai sword and slices it to shreds. Nathan never gets upset about things like that,” I say to Kelsey, waving my white flag one last time. But that dumpy little garbage bin is affordable and close to my ballet studio, so all in all, I can’t complain. It’s my favorite place in the world to cook, and exactly the opposite of my dumpy little garbage bin five blocks down the road. It’s designed in monochrome tones of cream, black, and brass, and an expansive window wall overlooks the ocean. I think it’s killing her to admit she did something human, so I take pity on her and turn away to set the donut box down on the ridiculously large center island. He had his protein shake in his hand and…” She makes an annoyed gesture, letting it finish the story for her: I dumped Nathan’s shake down the front of him. “I accidentally bumped into him when I came into the kitchen a few minutes ago. He’s in the shower.” Before our run? Kelsey looks at me like it grieves her deeply to have to expound. She turns her head slowly to me, hate burning in her delicate baby blues. Well, except for me-I love it too.īut we’re sort of weirdos. No one appreciates the morning quite like Nathan. Which is why Satin-PJ-Kelsey is standing in the kitchen looking pissed off. Any girlfriend of Nathan’s knows if she wants to see him at all that day, she has to wake up just as early as he does. “Nathan up yet?” It’s 6:30 AM on a Tuesday morning, so I know for a fact he’s already awake. I thought you were some stalker girl who broke in somehow.” She sets the knife down, raises one of her perfectly manicured eyebrows, and mumbles not so quietly, “But then again…you sort of are.” I narrow my eyes at her with a tight smile. “Oh my gosh, Bree! You scared me to death. REMEMBER ME?! She releases a big puff of air and lets her shoulders sag in relief. The woman who was here before you and will be here well after you. Remember?” Nathan’s best friend since high school. She seems so opposite of the type of person I would pick for him-they all do. I have no idea how he spends time with this woman. And yeah, I know her name, because even though she pretends not to remember me every time we meet, she’s been dating Nathan for a few months now and we have met several times. This isn’t my first rodeo with one of Nathan’s girlfriends, though, so I do what I always do and smile at Kelsey. I would raise my hands in the air so I don’t get knifed to death, but I’m sort of loaded down with breakfast goods-goods for me and Nathan, not Miss Screechy.
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“DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!” she screeches, and I immediately roll my eyes, because why does she have to be so screechy? She sounds like a clothespin is pinching the bridge of her nose and she has recently inhaled a whole balloon full of helium. We’re separated by a massive island, but from the way her eyes are bugging out, you’d think I was holding matching cutlery against the jugular vein in her neck. She’s clutching a butcher knife to her chest. Peeking around the corner, I find a woman wearing a light pink shorts-and-camisole sleep set pressed into the far corner of the wraparound white marble kitchen counter. ATTENTION ALL SEXY QUARTERBACKS! COVER YOUR GOODS! A GREEDY-EYED WOMAN IS IN THE HOUSE! A high-pitched yelp sounds from the kitchen, and I immediately frown.
Using the heel of my tennis shoe, I slam the front door shut with enough gusto to warn Nathan that I’m on the premises. I know this smell so well I think I could follow it like a bloodhound if he ever goes missing.
The moment I step inside Nathan’s apartment (which really should not be called an apartment because it’s the size of five large apartments smooshed together), the familiar clean and crisp scent of him knocks into me like a bus. I have fair skin, so there’s a one million percent chance it’s going to leave an angry red mark. I hiss when I turn the lock and a splash of coffee darts out onto my wrist through the little hole in the lid. But because I’m the best friend a person could ever ask for-which I will remind Nathan of as soon as I make it inside his apartment-I manage it. Balancing two cups of burning hot coffee and a box of donuts while trying to unlock a front door is not easy.
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